


Captivated

by Ly__canthrope



Category: Motorsport RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-23 00:53:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20001283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ly__canthrope/pseuds/Ly__canthrope
Summary: It is important for everyone to take a break, to enjoy holidays and play with friends and to chase girls. What is rare when it is the other way around and instead, a certain rider gets swept off their feet by a whirlwind of a girl.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ** Half-edited

No one distracts Marc Marquez, if anything he is the one turning heads. He can walk into a room and he will have people recognising him, flocking to his side for their 5 minutes of fame and for the ability to brush shoulders with a reigning world champion. Girls bat their eyelashes and flirt, guys joke around and attempt to act like they know what they are talking about and out of everything Marc just seeks for peace and quiet when he goes out, not wanting to be in the spotlight when he spends his career and majority of his life in the headlines. He can’t dismiss the fact that sometimes he enjoys this attention, especially from the ladies and it's easy for him to expel some of that sexual tension but he doesn’t commit to them; love ‘em and leave them is the best way. 

It’s the midseason holidays and Marc’s friends drag him from the house, using the excuse that he needs to relax and enjoy himself before giving his 110% at the championship that he is currently trailing behind in. Marc doesn’t oppose to the night out on the town, actually looking forward to spending time with his friends and pretending that he doesn’t have this major pressure burdening his shoulders. It’s a small group out tonight; only him, Alex, Jose, Xavi and Santi but the chatter never ceases and the drinks flow. No-one is drunk yet and in the midst of their outing at the pub Santi brings over a large plate of chips and it makes the boys cheer happily. It’s a fantastic way for Marc to disconnect from racing and once off that track there is no word spoken about motorcycles, unfortunately it doesn’t stop people from recognising him and Marc’s night gets disturbed a few times by fans asking for photos and autographs. Marc takes it in stride, he and his friends used to it and they don’t let the interruptions ruin their night. 

“Marc, there is a girl eyefucking you from the bar” Alex teases him, his younger brother has a new habit of annoying the elder about his girl fans and their obsession with the world champion and he finds it hilarious. Marc rolls his eyes, not even looking over his shoulder to the girl in question and instead picks up a crumb and throws it at Alex, hitting him smack in the middle of his forehead and Alex jolts back, flipping him the finger and they both laugh. The boys are only two beers into the night when they decide on a game of pool, teams of two with one person left over and automatically Marc and Alex gravitate towards each other, always teaming up in any activities they do and it leaves Jose and Santi as their opposition with Xavi judicating. It takes Alex only two hits to sink a solid coloured ball and already the Marquez brothers are leading and the competitive nature of the group of friends begins. 

They finish the first game quite quickly, Marc and Alex winning too easily and as a ‘punishment’ they are made to down their third beers quickly. It is the same teams again for the second game and they make it halfway through it before Marc gets distracted. From the corner of the pub there is a loud roar making the world champion look up from his shot, seeing a group similar to his seated in a corner booth. It appears that one of their companions have arrived, most likely late, and their friends are teasing them beyond belief. It shouldn’t have distracted him and Marc goes back to prepare his shot but the light overhanging the booth catches on your figure and Marc’s eyes are drawn to you like a moth to a flame. There is just  _ something _ about you that makes Marc’s head spin and all coherent thoughts vanish, maybe it is the easy smile that stretches on your perfect lips, the way your hair is left unbound to tumble down the length of your back, the fire in your eyes has you chat back to your friends or maybe it's the way you hold yourself; confidence oozing from you and you hold your head up high with such power. Marc can’t pinpoint what it is about you, a stranger, but it affects him enough that when he does eventually turn his attention back to the pool game, he misses his shot completely and sinks the white ball. Alex groans, slapping him on the back of the head while his friends laugh. 

“What were you staring at?” his brother questions him, eyebrow quirked as brown eyes scan Marc’s face for any hint as to what had caught his attention so seriously. 

“Nothing” Marc dismisses, making sure his back is to that booth as the temptation to peer over only increases. 

“You are a shit liar. You cannot lie to me” Alex says simply, arms crossed and head tilted as he awaits for his answer but he doesn’t get a chance to receive it, Jose nudging him signalling that it is his turn and it ends his little interrogation that had only just started. While Alex is preoccupied with searching for his target and setting up his shot, Marc risks a peek over his shoulder towards your table, delighted to have you in clear view and he enjoys watching you laugh and playfully lean across the booth to slap at your friends arm. Marc thinks he is sneaky enough to not get caught staring at you and is almost proud of himself as he turns back to the game only to find Jose now giving him an amused look. His friend doesn’t say anything however, unlike a certain pesky little brother, instead he just gives Marc a wink and turns back to the game. 

The second game isn’t really in his favour; Marc trying to concentrate on the game and his friends but the stranger is stuck in his mind and he is struggling to resist the temptation to constantly keep peering over to you. There is something that draws him to you, a unique allure that has completely captivated Marc and it’s something that he hasn’t experienced before; certainly not with any grid girls or fans alike. Alex tries to compensate for his brother’s distracted mind but it isn’t enough and Jose and Santi manage to win the game, a high five in celebration and bragging rights. They question a third game to decide the overall winners but with two of his four friends recognising Marc’s wandering eyes, they decide to allocate him judicator and it also gives them a chance to try and seek out what has gained his attention so vividly. 

It takes them 15 minutes to find out why. Halfway through the third pool game of the night Marc’s attention gets completely entranced by the stranger. You’ve moved away from your friends, being the one to get the next round of drinks and you weave your way through the crowd, avoiding the drunken patrons and passing the pool table and towards the bar. You fail to notice how you have captivated the reigning world champion’s attention, not even realising that he is there and you miss how his head tracks your strut. But his friends don’t miss the action; all four of them staring at Marc as he watches a girl leave her booth full of friends and makes her way passed, seeing the little smile on Marc’s face and his eyes follow your figure up to the bar and stay there as you rest against the beer soaked counter. This was a day they never believed they would see so soon, the day where a girl seizes the attention of Marc Marquez. They watch bemused, almost concerned by how intensely Marc is observing you and it takes a couple of nudges on Santi’s part to bring Marc’s attention back to them. Marc tries to play it off smoothly, acting as if he had not been caught red handed staring at you but when he is greeted with four faces looking at him with eyebrows raised, the champion knows he cannot weasel his way out of this one. 

“Like what you see?” Santi teases and a blush coats Marc’s cheeks, looking down at his feet before shrugging, a lame attempt at acting smooth. If motocycles is everyone's first passion, their second favourite thing to do is to tease Marc and he knows he is in for an onslaught of taunting. 

“Who is she?” Alex asks, resting against his pool stick and once again Marc shrugs, 

“I don’t know” he confesses, eyes darting over to the bar where you still remain. 

“Go talk to her” Jose encourages, jerking his head in your direction and Marc shakes his head vigorously and his blush intensifies, making his friends look at him confused. Marc doesn’t know how to describe it, he doesn’t know why he cannot just swagger over there and lay on the charm. But it feels different, despite not even saying a word to you yet. While he struggles to find an excuse as to why he  _ won’t  _ go over and speak to you, Alex speaks up.

“Marc, your turn to get us a round” 

Marc shoots his little brother a withering look, taken back by sudden change of topic and by Alex’s craving for alcohol until the underlying hint hits him and he rolls his eyes. The others agree, chanting for him to get them a round and they only cease when Marc waves his hands at him agreeing. 

“Alright, alright” he grumbles, trying to act bothered by their teasing but in reality he is eager to get close to you. Marc begins walking to the bar in a hurried pace, feet betraying his eagerness and he has to physically slow himself down as he nears the counter. He takes a seat a few down from yours, fingers reaching out to gain the bartender’s attention and when the man approaches he asks for a round of beers. Marc takes a few seconds to compose himself, looking down at the counter and his fingers draw mindless patterns on the varnished wood as he tries to sort through pick up lines to use on you. Maybe it is the many glances Marc gives you whilst he is at the bar because you don’t seem surprised when Marc takes a deep breath, leaning up and tilting his head in your direction. If anything it looks like you almost anticipated it, eyes meeting his immediately and you give him a look of intrigue. 

“Hey”. Marc has a rough start, the word he says does not match the smooth pick up line that he has in his head and he winces at how bad his voice sounded. 

“Hey” you reply, eyes sparkling with mischief and Marc knows you have picked up on his nervousness. 

“I’m Marc, Marc Marquez” offering his hand and you take it. He hopes that some recognition would occur with hearing his name but you give no sign that his name means anything to you. 

“Y/N” You only offer your first name but it satisfies Marc enough to have your hand in his, skin soft in contrast to his callous-ridden palms. 

“How has your night been?” He inquires, using the simple conversation starter and hopes that you will play along. 

“It’s been good. How has yours’ been?” you say politely and Marc knows he is losing this battle of keeping your attention, your eyes wandering over to the bartender as you wait for your drinks and Marc has to go all in. 

“It’s been fantastic. It’s my first night where I can actually relax and not be stressed for once” he laughs and you turn back to him, body shifting as you give him your full attention, eyebrow raised as you question why he has been so stressed. 

“Being a MotoGP rider is quite stressful, especially with the championship so close”. It is his last ditch effort, using his status and fame to try and rope you in and he knows it is a solid pick up, having used it in the past to impress his one night stands. However, he is severely disappointed when he doesn’t elicit the reaction he is hoping for. Instead you only look at him with a wicked smirk on your lips, an air of nonchalance surrounding you as you shift in your seat, acting indifferent. 

“Oh I bet it is, especially when you are currently second and behind 10 precious points” you pout, making eye contact with him and Marc sees the mischievous fire in your eyes and he realises that you’ve known who he is this entire time. Marc deems it the worst possible timing because your tray of drinks are placed down in front of you, breaking your heavy gaze with the world champion as you thank the bartender and pick up the tray, glancing over at Marc with a smile before you leave. 

“Good luck champion” you say bravely, your last words before you walk away, making a conscious effort to add a subtle sway to your hips as you leave him in the dust with his mouth parted. When you arrive back at the table with your friends they notice the sass in your movements and the grin that brightens your face, already knowing that something is up. 

“Tell us” one of them speaks up, taking one of the drinks from the tray and barely giving you any time to fully process the interaction that has your heart fluttering. 

“I just had Marc Marquez try and hit on me” you whisper softly, disbelief laced in your words and your friends start cheering and squealing around you, making you hush them to be quiet as you laugh along yourself, adrenaline making your blood throb in your veins. 

Unbeknown to you Marc is rooted to his chair at the bar, his own heart fluttering for the same reasons as yours as he tries to comprehend the exchange. It is rare that a girl turns down Marc Marquez, let alone walks away from the world champion and rather than being hurt by the action, it only provokes his curiosity about you. Shamelessly Marc looks over to your table, seeing you giggle along with your friends and a bemused smile stretches on his lips, falling back into the trap of staring at you and he is only disturbed by the bartender when five beers are placed in front of him. Marc takes them back to his friends who have moved to their table, obviously finished with their game of pool and four pairs of eyes watch him approach. 

“Did you get turned down?” gets blurted out by Xavi, Marc barely having a chance to pull out his chair before he gets bombarded by his friends. 

“Marc Marquez getting turned down by a girl? I never thought I would live to see this day” Jose taunts and Marc shakes his head, blush returning and to escape the embarrassment that floods his nerves he takes a large sip of his beer. Everyone is looking at him expectantly, waiting upon an answer to the mystery that clouds them and Marc looks at them defensively. 

“What?”

“Well… what happened?” Alex tries, a soft voice knocking down Marc’s walls. 

“I don’t know” Marc huffs, involuntary smile as he recalls the interaction. He knows that you were interested, the way you looked at him, your body language but yet you were playing games with him, acting indifferent about him and even pushing back to see how much Marc is willing to try for your attention. “She knew who I am… tried to impress her but she knew. She even knew that I was trailing in points”. Marc’s bashfulness has his friends in stitches, amazed by how incredule he sounds. 

“She’s got you. Gonna play hard to get” Santi laughs and Marc chuckles, teeth nibbling at his lips as he thinks about your attitude and your fire and he doesn’t stop himself from glancing over at your table, watching you for only seconds before you feel his gaze and you meet it. Your tongue pokes out and swipes over your bottom lip, effectively wetting it and Marc’s eyes are drawn to them, swallowing thickly when he gets caught by you but you wink at him before taking a sip of your beverage and turn back to the conversation with your friends. Marc is utterly and completely mesmerised by you, for reasons unknown, but the only thought he has in his mind is that he wants you, badly. The rest of the night consists of heavy gazes, fleeting smiles and teasing from both groups of your friends, both patrons enduring the taunts and vexes from their friends and only half heartedly telling them to shut up, too busy exchanging glances at one another from across the pub. 

It’s reached the point of the night where majority of your friends are wasted and most likely time to go home. Your last remaining sober friend ducks to a quiet spot in the pub to call for a cab and reappears telling you that it will be there soon and you now have a new job of escorting your drunken mates outside. It’s a battle and a half as you try to stretch yourself out to accommodate to each sloshed person; one arm around a girl holding her up while your free hand holds you wallet and phone and you have to scold another. It’s amusing to watch for Marc, his friends giving up on trying to make conversation with him every time he becomes engrossed in you and Marc feels a little rejected that you leave without even glancing in his direction, despite understanding your reasons. 

Resignedly Marc focuses his attention back on his friends, feeling guilty that they all came out to have a good time together yet he has spent majority of his night fawning of you. 

“I’m sorry guys” earning himself a couple of weird looks, “I haven’t been paying attention to you, we came out here together and…” he gets cut off by a series of protests. 

“It’s alright Marc, we understand” Jose smirks, dismissing Marc’s apology because it is no problem at all and if anything, Marc has provided enough entertain for them that night. Grateful for his friends Marc sparks the conversation, offering to get them another round to keep the night rolling but he trails off when he finds his friends gazing behind him, not even paying attention to his words. Eyebrows furrowed, Marc opens his mouth to question them but he feels the weight of a hand rest on his shoulder, making him turn around and peer up at the figure behind him and he discovers you standing there. You’ve rendered him speechless without even doing anything and he gapes at you silently, making you chuckle at the gobsmacked expression on his face, bemused highly at how you have managed to effect the world champion so remarkably. 

“Hey” you say softly, tearing your gaze from Marc to nod at his friends before eyes darting back to Marc’s for security, feeling anxious beneath the intense stares coming from the boys. Your hand leaves Marc’s shoulder but he can still feel the burn from your palm, skin on fire because of your touch and he misses it immediately. Instead you pull something from the pocket of your jeans, reaching out to grab his hand and you tuck the small piece of paper in his grasp, a small smile on your lips as you do so and Marc returns it when he realises what you’ve placed in his hand and his smile widens into a smirk. From the close proximity Marc can see vulnerability in your eyes, for the first time that night you seem unsure but when Marc’s fingers curl around the slip of paper and also your fingers, he sees confidence flow back into you when you notice his acceptance of your little gift. You don’t have much time, knowing the taxi will be here soon if it is not there now so you begin to leave, stepping backwards and your fingers only disconnect when you are out of reach. Marc grins at you as you retreat, maintaining eye contact as he puts the paper in the safety of his wallet and you flush when he winks at you. In your peripheral vision you can see the shit eating grins on his friends faces and it makes you flush more, swirling around on your heels and making your way outside, the pounding of your heart the only thing you can hear as your fingers tingle from having that contact with Marc and despite your nerves you walk outside beaming and hoping you receive a call from the man soon. 

  
As soon as you are out the door the Spaniards are cheering, Jose and Xavi standing as they jeer and jest and Alex shakes his brother in excitement, bountiful laughter erupting and Marc’s night has only gotten better. They buy him a celebratory drink, acting as if he has done the impossible and Marc is pretty sure he has, not even thinking he would be able to pick you up since you have completely knocked him off his feet. His wallet burns against his leg and Marc finds himself eager to get home so he can message you and he feels like he is carrying the most precious item in the world. In the end he doesn’t make it home before he  _ has to _ send you a message - he only lasts 10 minutes. 


	2. Chapter 2

You are surprised beyond belief, it’s been about a week since you gave the reigning world champion your number and he has been in contact with you every single day since. You couldn’t contain your little squeal when you received his first message that night, scaring the shit out of your drunk friends who then began to tease you about your giggly nature and unfortunately for you, it was the only thing they remembered of that night the next day in their hungover state. You’d receive messages morning and night from the rider, good morning messages that would make your heart sing and good night messages that made your heart flutter and sleep welcoming and throughout the hours between, the day is filled with endless conversation and you forget how famous and wide known he is and you begin to think that Marc Marquez is just a normal guy. Your friends cease their teasing, now knowingly smile at each other when they see you beaming at your phone, no doubt having just gotten a message from  _ him _ and instead they encourage it, that is after they do their own homework on the champion, googling his personality and they swear that if he does you wrong, they will hurt him. 

Although your friends have relented in their annoyiness, Marc’s haven’t - teasing him every time he looks down at his phone and smile, also aware that every message is most likely you and they are pleased to see their friend so happy and giddy over something other than motorcycles. They have been pushing, however, for Marc to ask you out on a date, scoffing when their friend dismisses the option because he is ‘busy with GP weekends’ which is true but surely, after you completely captivating him that night they are surprised that he wasn’t knocking on your door the next day. So when Alex confronts his brother about it, he is doubtful. Marc knows something is up when his brother enters his box at Le Mans on Friday afternoon during their lunch break and when Alex takes a seat in Santi’s chair and faces him, Marc looks up and cocks an eyebrow. 

“Yes?” Somehow Marc just knows that Alex is here on a mission, picking up his younger brothers demeanor and he swirls his chair around to give him his full attention. Alex relaxes in his chair with an air of nonchalance, tilting his head before speaking. 

“How come you haven’t asked Y/N out on a date?” he asks, Alex startling his brother with his straightforwardness and Marc takes a second to process the question, furrowing his eyebrows as he glares accusingly at his younger sibling. 

“Why do you care?”

“Because you were practically drooling at her all night and you talk daily yet you haven’t seen her since? You were completely hooked on her” 

Marc feels defensive, not expecting this type of talk while he was waiting for the second free practice of the weekend and he struggles to come up with a retort and it is rare that Marc Marquez is lost for words, the only other time being that night where you had swept him off his feet. 

“Do you not like her?” Alex presses and Marc gives him a withering look. 

“I like her” he defends, “I like her a lot” he adds a brief chuckle of awe accompanying his words as he thinks back to your conversations, all the late night talks where you chat about anything and everything and despite it only being text messages, he can sense your playfulness and sassy tone through the messages. And you aren’t the only one falling asleep with a smile on your face, Marc going to bed every night with a warm giddy feeling fluttering in his stomach everytime he receives a “good night :)” message from you and you are the one that he looks forward to talking to the next day, starting his day off perfectly. 

“But?”

“I don’t know Alex… she makes me shy, I don’t want to ruin anything” Marc confesses. He is sailing in uncharted waters, not having a girlfriend or a girl that he talks to this much since he was a young teenager; being so focused on his career that he is unsure of himself in regards to a relationship, only spending a brief amount of time with girls in his bed before never seeing them again until the next time they fall into his bed once more. This,  _ you _ , is different and new. 

“Just ask her out Marc, she is going to say yes” Alex encourages, a slap on marc’s knee to encourage him further and Marc rolls his eyes at him, wishing it was that simple. Or perhaps it is and he is overthinking it? The worst that could happen is that you say no and then what? You either stop talking or you just talk as friends and Marc realises all he wants is to just remain talking to you, no matter the label and he can’t believe that he has fallen like this so quickly. He doesn’t get to dwell on it anymore, Alex leaving the box the same time Santi comes in and Marc grabs his helmet and gloves, preparing himself for the last practice of the day and he goes out onto the track with a little smile on his lips when he gets a message from you;

**You: Good luck out there, don’t crash too much - don’t want to ruin that gorgeous bike of yours :P**

It is Saturday night when Marc gains the courage to ask you out on a date and he has to thank Santi and Alex for prodding him to do so. So he finds himself standing outside of the hospitality building, unable to send the important text to you in front of everyone and his heart beats wildly when he presses send. 

**Marc: Hey Y/N, do you want to go out for dinner next week?**

It’s such a simple text but it has him nervous despite it and Marc curses himself for being this shy and worried about it, wondering where the confident racer side of him has disappeared because he could use some of his track side courage right now. He doesn’t have to wait long for a reply as he stands outside the building shivering and his heart sort of drops when he opens it, now completely unsure about how to read the text.

**You: As in a date?**

**Marc: Yeah, as in a date.**

**You: And what makes you think you deserve a date?**

Your text holds none of your usual emoji’s or funny innuendos and Marc worries that he has read the situation wrong, that maybe you are an overly friendly person and that night at the pub where you flirted and teased was just a one type thing and he takes his time to reply.

**Marc: Because I’m a world champion and you like me.**

**You: Mmhm, you’re right… :P But I want to go on a date with just Marc, not world champion Marc Marquez**

Marc chuckles when he opens your message, relief spreading through him because he can almost hear your playfulness and sincerity and his world feels like it has been restored. 

**Marc: I can do just Marc :)**

**You: And if you win tomorrow, I’ll even let you take me out on a second date ;)**

**Marc: As just Marc or Marc Marquez??**

**You: You decide**

Your offer gives him incentive to win tomorrow, more than the usual reasons and Marc is able to walk back inside and rejoin his friends, permanent smile on his face and Alex and Santi already know what your answer is. Alex tells him ‘I told you’ that earns himself a shove and Santi notices the gleam in the older rider’s eye as he finishes his dinner and that gleam doesn’t disappear when they bid each other goodnight, the crew chief watching Marc walk off to his motorhome with a skip in his step and he can only chuckle, musing ‘young love’ under his breath as he walks to his own car. When it comes to race day Marc is back in professional mode, serious face and mind focused as he completes the warm up, comfortable with where he places and he reviews all the data they have while he waits for his own race at midday. You sent your typical morning text to him but other than that you have remained silent, not wanting to distract him as he mentally prepares himself for the 5th race of the season and instead you watch the broadcast, smiling every time the camera peeks into the Repsol Honda garage and show Marc’s serious expression, laughing to yourself at how Marc pointedly avoids looking at the camera every single time. You can’t help yourself but send him a message, not sure if he will check it before he goes out but surely there is no harm done. To your surprise marc’s phone is sat beside his helmet on the shelf and he hears the buzz emitted and out of reaction he looks at it. 

**You: You can smile at the camera, ya know? Always so serious :o**

You see through the broadcast that Marc smiles as he reads your text, eyes flicking over the message a few times and that familiar warmth spreads through his body, the same warmth that occurs every time he gets a message from you or if Marc just thinks or talks about you in general. Santi sees the growing smile and the rising blush on his rider, automatically knowing what (more like who) has caused that reaction and he nudges Marc, waggling his eyebrows when his friend looks over at him and the blush only grows hotter. To your surprise, Marc leans back in his chair, phone resting on a deliciously thick thigh and he looks directing at the antagonising camera the same damn smile pulling at his lips and he winks at the camera - at you, before turning his gaze away and a finger taps against his phone. You know that he did it for you, a silent “is that better?” challenging you and you laugh as you wrap your blanket tighter around your shoulders, blushing to yourself because Marc Marquez is being playful with you and a giddy feeling fills you up. 

Marc feels this new weight resting upon his shoulder when he follows his team out onto the track, mounting his bike and prepares himself for the race. He isn’t nervous about winning or losing, not worried about losing that offered second date because Marc swears he will get more dates with you if its the last thing he does but more, he is nervous because he  _ knows _ that you are watching the race, watching him and all he wants to do is impress you, especially since you had the upper advantage at your last meeting. It does mean though that his aggressive side makes an appearance, Marc determined to do well and he knows that he has to play this race just right since he has that hard rear tyre that will take a few laps to warm up. Everything goes into accordance as he drops into 6th place, not worried in the slightest about his position because the race is so long and once that rear tyre is burning he will be able to carve through the grid so easily. The contact with Zarco has him worried and two turns later when Iannone crashes just in front of him, his nerves are frayed. It takes a lap or two to get back in that rhythm, tyre now burning and he moves up a few places, sitting in 4th just behind Zarco and for once his mind is not on you, his natural instinct now guiding him as Marc races and it is muscle memory as he slides around corners, automatically knowing when to change gears and to find those corner markers. To his surprise both title contentions, Zarco and Dovizioso, crash out and it is like taking candy from a baby when he passes the quickly fading Lorenzo, taking the lead and Marc’s mind clears with the only thing in front of him is an open track. Although Marc is at ease, your nerves are now running wildly, praying at every corner that Marc doesn’t crash or doesn’t wobble because you fear the Honda rider receiving a DNF. Your anxiousness turns into celebration as he crosses the line, a long sigh of relief escaping you as the talented champion wheelies across the line, a chuckle of disbelief directed at yourself for doubting Marc’s capabilities and straight away you reach over for your phone. 

**You: Looks like I owe you a second date. Well done champion, looking forward to the first xx**

It’s hours until Marc is able to check his phone, having to come into Parc ferme and celebrate briefly with his team, heading upstairs to go onto the podium and pointedly ignore his now enemy Rossi and just when Marc thought the day couldn’t get any better, he was wrong. 


End file.
